As Scott looked out at the snowy terrain outside of the lodge he cracked open a can of beer, downing it almost as if it were water. In the last few hours so much had happened. Now, as he was perched on the porch railing he had a choice to make. But everything he'd been working for, everything he'd quite literally died for was gone.

His mentor was gone, his wife in space, mutantkind underground and scattered once again, Krakoa destroyed. Everything was gone. And for once Scott didn't have a plan. He barely even heard your footsteps crunching in the snow. When you spoke up, joking about 'what step to victory' this was he scoffed.

Scott shook his head, "I don't see any victories lying around. But maybe I missed them. You know I've got this thing. With my eyes." It was petty of him, he knew that. But he also knew that mutant progress had just been forced to take a large step back into the shadows. People were scared, new mutants are popping up all over the place. "Care for a beer?"